I should say that we raced
in this way, side by side, for ten seconds or so. I could see the gilt
buttons twinkling on his sleeve as he reached past my nose, and finding
neither bit nor rein, laid his hand at length right on top of mine. I
believe that, till then, the riding-officer--it was he, for the next
time I saw a riding-officer I recognised the buttons--had no guess of
anyone's being on the mare's back. But instead of the oath that I
expected, he gave a shrill scream, and his arm dropped, for the mare had
turned and caught it in her teeth, just above the elbow. The next
moment she picked up her stride again, and forged past him. As he
dropped back, a bullet or two sang over us, and one went _ping!_ into
the right-hand keg. But I had no time to be afraid, for the mare's neck
rose again and caught me another sad knock on the nose as she heaved
herself up the cliff-track, and now I had work to grip the edge of the
keg, and twine my left hand tighter in her mane to prevent myself
slipping back over her tail, and on to those deadly hoofs. Up we went,
the loose stones flying behind us into the bushes right and left.
Farther behind I heard the scrambling of many hoofs, but whether of the
tub-carriers or the troopers' horses it was not for me to guess. The
mare knew, however, for as the slope grew easier, she whinnied and
slackened her pace to give them time to come up.
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